


Not What Makes Me Happiest, Baby

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16293710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: River decides the Doctor needs an intervention of the material kind. The Doctor is somewhat less than enthusiastic.





	Not What Makes Me Happiest, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Fun idea based off the back of a conversation with a friend. The marital stuff just kind of... happened.

“Remind me,” the Doctor asked, her tone little more than a petulant whine. It was the kind of voice she usually abhorred, but right now, it was entirely apt. “Why I agreed to this?”

The whole thing had seemed like a good idea at the time, she supposed. She had reasoned that she might now need more than one outfit that she could wear until it needed washing – a good few weeks, at least – and specifically, she might need one of the mysterious contraptions that humans called ‘a bra,’ and so she had given River a call under the assumption that her wife might a) be enthusiastic to learn of recent developments on the regeneration front; and b) be somewhat amenable to the suggestion of providing assistance in terms of clothing.

The Doctor had not anticipated that ‘assistance’ would take the form of an enforced trip to one of the largest shopping centres in the universe. (Why did River even _have_ those coordinates saved to her vortex manipulator? Did this have something to do with her constantly changing wardrobe? She really wished she’d paid more attention to that, now.) She’d been hoping, perhaps somewhat naively, that her wife would whip a tape measure out of thin air, do some measuring and pondering, and then sit with her and browse online clothes sites while they both ate microwave popcorn straight out of the bag. 

Alas. No such luck. 

“Because,” River said brusquely, in the kind of tone of voice that the Doctor knew she had learned from her mother. “You’re a woman now, and unfortunately for us, we need to keep changing our clothes or the menfolk get bored and other women get catty.”

“Do they?” the Doctor perked up a degree or so at the term. “Do they grow whiskers?” 

“It’s an expression,” River rolled her eyes fondly, transferring her shopping bags to her left hand and taking the Doctor’s in her right. “I want you to look wonderful, and it’s been _so_ long since I’ve been able to play dress-up with you… outside of the bedroom, anyway.”

The Doctor felt her cheeks turn a spectacular shade of maroon, and River broke into gales of laughter. 

“Relax, darling. This is fun, honestly.”

“Is it?” 

“Hush. Yes, it is. Don’t you want to look beautiful?” 

“No, I want to make friends and save people.”

“You can do all three.”

“But why do I have to?” the Doctor complained, suddenly resenting her new body with every fibre of her being. “It’s never been an issue what I looked like before; why is it now?”

“Because the rules for women are different to those for men, and it might be shitty but it’s how life works. Believe me, the injustice of it all is maddening, and I don’t want you to be subject to the kind of ignorance I’ve suffered.” 

“Don’t you tend to just vaporise ignorant people?” 

“Only if they’re sexist and ignorant, darling. Or homophobic and ignorant. Or racist and ignorant.” 

“This is quite a lot of exceptions to the not-vaporising people rule.” 

“Well, there’s a lot of arseholes out there.” 

“Can we please go home?” the Doctor tried pleading, hoping a change of subject might endear her to River in a way that a lecture on morality would not. “My feet hurt, and I’m tired, and I want to go home and see the gang.” 

“They’re not a gang; you’re not a criminal enterprise.”

“Shut up,” the Doctor muttered. “It makes me feel part of something.” 

“You’re a part of _this_ ,” River noted pointedly, and the Doctor felt a pang of embarrassment. “You know; this marriage.” 

“I know, but…”

“I’m just teasing,” River smiled warmly at her. “I’ve missed you, you know? And this is… very new, but I love it. I love you, hopeless woman though you are.” 

“My feet hurt,” the Doctor repeated in a despondent tone. “And I’m tired.” 

“We have been to _one shop_. You can’t be tired yet. You’ve run around planets and space stations for longer than this.” 

“But we were in that shop for _days_.” 

“It was an hour, maximum.” 

“I-” 

“You didn’t used to whine this much,” River noted, raising her eyebrows as though challenging the Doctor to disagree. “This is an irritating development.” 

“I just feel like there’s a lot of things I would rather be doing than shopping.”

“Such as?” 

“I’ve told you. Making friends. Helping people. Saving planets.”

“And you can do all of that, but I want my time with you first.” 

“You can have it,” the Doctor mumbled, suddenly feeling close to tears. “You can really, really have it, I just… this is a lot to deal with and I’m…” she waved her hands vaguely, stopping walking and closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she put her hands over her ears and tried to block out the noise of thousands of aliens milling around them. 

Cool hands pressed against her cheeks, drawing her back to herself, and she opened her eyes to find River smiling apologetically at her, lifting her hands away from her head before saying softly: “I’m sorry. I know this is overwhelming for you, but it’s overwhelming for me in different ways. I don’t want you to be subject to the kind of things I was-” 

“But I am never going to be you. I am never going to enjoy this sort of thing; it’s just not who I am. Trying to make me is just…” 

“It’s like trying to change a sunset,” River’s mouth twisted into a sad smile, and she sighed. “I just wish, sometimes, that… never mind.” 

“What?” 

“That you were a little more conventional.”

“You knew who and how I was when you married me,” the Doctor reminded her, feeling a stab of hurt at the words. “You knew everything about me when you fell in love. I have never, in two thousand years, been conventional.” 

“And if you were, I would be bored. I know,” River ran a hand through her hair. “But sometimes… I feel like it would be easier for us both if this was the kind of marriage that was explicable to others.” 

“In what-” 

“In the sense that you don’t change your face and body and gender from time to time; in that we don’t both love other people; in the sense that you conform to general norms.” 

“Why would that be easier? Why does it matter what other people think?” 

“You used to mind – a great deal – what other people think.” 

“And now… now I don’t,” the Doctor shrugged. “I just want to get on with being me, and if people have a problem with that then that is on them, not on me.”

River just looked at her, an unreadable expression on her face. 

“What?” the Doctor asked nervously. “What is it?” 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” 

“And I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you?” 

“Would you like to go and look in some of the toy shops, and then get something to eat?”

“Very, very much.”


End file.
